The war against boredom

Too much is not enough” became sort of a catchphrase in the ‘90s, just before the amphetamines wore off and the euphoria turned into pre-millennial tension. We upped the dosage as we went along, expecting to flat-line into the apocalypse…

However, Armageddon idn’t come — and the only casualty was Bruce Willis. Needless to say, that was little consolation.  

But what if… that was it? 

Our worst fears have been realized: the future is bland. The fact that the end-times could get no minstrel better than Aerosmith (apparently, the Rolling Stones weren’t available) and an ‘80s action star as our avatar is proof enough that we’re damned. And to a post-modern, pop culture hell at that — a place where the furniture’s all from the IKEA catalogue, the food only aspires to be as good as airline cuisine and the music… Well, there’s just a lot of it.

Like now.

Two centuries ago, fans of Beethoven could — on the average — ever only hope to listen to his symphonies once or twice, enough for them to cherish the memory for a lifetime. But today, more than ever, we’ve got access to so much music — 24/7, as they advertise — that I just want almost all of it to go away. Music is so readily available (i.e. ringtones, jingles, soundtracks, PAs) that we suspect the real reason why everybody requires an iPod these days is to drown out others’ music with their own. If Beethoven was a window outside, Sitti is more akin to the wall… in a hospital. (With sickeningly pastel wallpaper.)

It’s not that most of today’s music is bad (it is, though) but that it’s safe. Dispensable. It’s as if it wasn’t so much played to be listened to — but rather to be consumed. That’s the nature of pop music. It demands to be eaten. 

To be fair, Beethoven can’t make me stay tuned if the tune’s not that great, but Shakira and Beyoncé can — and do. (Quite a few times, admittedly. Repeatedly, even.)  

That’s not music, though. And it’s easily spent in spurts.

“Too much,” then, amounts to only too little.

* * *

But all’s not lost. There are two developments in local music that have intrigued these jaded ears enough to merit mention.  S.A.B.A.W. is releasing a box set of musical misfit Arvie Bartolome containing all of his surviving material from a lengthy, troubled career misspent underground. Veering from stabs at pop tunes to forays into the almost unlistenable, “The Arvie Bartlome Experience” is composed of material previously considered lost or thought destroyed by the artist himself. Produced by Tengal, it’ll be launched next month. Details will be included here in the coming weeks.

Trooping to Saguijo last Monday to catch Sandwich on their listeners’ night we may have just witnessed the only new pop artist to pique and arouse much interest from these jaded ears.  Named after a British sitcom character, The Vince Noir Project is possibly the first local act to pick up New York’s Blondie’s flashy dress and shimmy in it convincingly. Apart from their lascivious electro-punk, singer Aless Tinio is the band’s main attraction. It’s tempting to use cliché and call her a breath of fresh air (finally, someone who seems genuinely uninhibited performing her music!) but that would only be accurate if the air was actually from a smoky, railway pub. And any song that starts with the line, “This song reminds me/Of losing my virginity…” is just a welcome relief from all the wistfulness in pretty boy rock of late.

We can’t wait to hear more. More!